Embrace
by FearandLoathingXIX
Summary: His lifestyle has trained him to treat any contact as an attack, to trust nothing good will last for long, to know he can never be allowed to have what he wants. He is so terrified of losing her - again - that the fears cling to him, until he's paralysed


I thought I wasn't going to write any more Megamind fanfic after the last one, as I was happy with it and decided I wouldn't want to write any more. But then I was WRONG, and the faces MM pulls when he gets hugged make my soul die with love. Also his eyes. OH GOD. HIS EYES.

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><p><em>Embrace<em>

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><p>Whenever Roxanne hugs Megamind his reaction is always the same; he stiffens at first, almost a shock-reflex, like instinct has taught him to treat any physical contact as an attack. He had as caring an upbringing as he could, given his circumstances, but the majority of physical contact he's experienced has been violent. So without fail, he is always awkward in her arms for a moment.<p>

Then he remembers himself, the panic and mistrust pass, and his hard, angled frame will relax a little. He might raise an arm tentatively to wrap around her back or shoulders, always holding her gently, like she's fragile enough to shatter, or – worse yet – realise who she is embracing and pull away from him in disgust.

At last, when he's just about convinced that it's not a mistake or joke, his face lights up; like he cannot believe another person is actually touching him affectionately – cannot believe they'd _want _to.

Repetition does not assure him of anything, because he's too paranoid to think anything good can last for long. He's shocked every time, seeming convinced the gesture is a one-off, and undoubtedly the last time Roxanne's rationality will fail her in this way. It hasn't yet, though, and shows few signs of stopping any time soon.

Given, there are times he hugs her_ – _more often he sweeps her straight off her feet and whirls her half-way across the room before he remembers himself and lets her down again. Those are the times when he forgets to think and just acts on impulse. But he's either not thinking at all, or he's thinking _too _much, and it paralyses him.

There's a voice in his head he can't seem to silence, that picks and picks at him – 'don't trust anything'_,_ it says, because he's spent most of his life being stopped at every turn. He doesn't believe that he can be allowed to simply _have_ something he wants – that neither Metro Man nor any other hero will come to ruin his plans at the last minute.

It's a block he can't quite seem to overcome, even though he doesn't need to do anything more than _look _to shout out how much he loves her, how much he treasures the very fact that she gives him the time of day. However, it makes hims so scared of losing her – _again_ – that he is afraid to overstep the margins, and treats her as if she were made of china, with sensibilities to match.

But this is Roxanne Ritchie, who's woken up with her head in a bag and her hands and feet tied together too many times to keep track of a frequent customer promotion; to whom machine-guns, flamethrowers, rotating blades and disco-dancing alligators are less frightening than a trip to the dentist. She isn't a delicate woman, and being treated like one frustrates her – especially when his face is such an open book, and she can tell so easily when he wants to do nothing more but reach out and touch her, but he _doesn't_.

She tries to encourage him by example – she makes contact without hesitation, whenever she wants, hoping that it'll make him realise he can too. But it doesn't work that well, because he doesn't want to disturb her, or try to advance when he is not wanted – he is _so _cautious because this is unlike anything he's ever done before, and fears outweigh any desires to break the space between them, which feels like it could be miles wide for the time it takes to cross.

However, Roxanne is nothing if not persistent – she didn't get to where she was today without persistence – so when he doesn't play ball, she ups her game. On this occasion, she's perched next to him on the arm of one of his high-backed chairs, watching a simulation of a yet-to-be-built invention; she sees the way his face strains in her direction, trying to watch her out of the corner of his eye without it being noticeable. He doesn't _need_ to say anything when his expressions speak so loud, but the space between them feels like it's actually exerting a force on her, pushing them apart like misaligned magnets.

She knows if she doesn't do something, he certainly won't, so she calmly reaches out and picks up the arm closest to her, shifting closer as she coils it around her waist without a word. She feels the initial burst of shock along his arm, the whip of his head in her direction and the look of disbelief. She doesn't look back at him, but keeps her eyes on the monitors ahead, and her hand holding his firmly on her hip.

As always, he is shy and awkward for a moment, until eventually – when he's sure that it isn't some kind of trick – his hand slowly tightens around her. Inquisitive, his long, delicate fingers trace back and forth over her hip bone, the leather of his gloves gliding over the silky material of her skirt, and Roxanne tries to swallow the lump in her throat, but her mouth is too dry.

She knows she is meant to be the confident, assured one, but she can't stop her insides twisting up when he is outright caressing her, playing a xylophone of shivers all up her spine – reminding her just how much she actually cares about him. How much she _wants _him to touch her. She slowly leans closer, moulding into his arm; however, her balance goes when she tips a little too far and she suddenly wobbles.

He tightens his grip to steady her, but she's falling already so he can only brace her by pulling her flush against his side – he's got no shoulder pads or high collars on, thankfully, or she'd be a human pin-cushion. He stops her just before she falls straight over his lap face-first, while she reaches out to steady herself, gripping his far shoulder as her face levels right in front of his.

His eyes seem huge as she looks straight into them, close enough to see every wisp and fleck of gold-yellow in the bright green irises, unlike any human's; the first thing that had drawn her to 'Ber-_nard' _was the eyes, and they can still take her breath away if she looks hard enough. She draws a shallow breath and wants nothing more than to be kissed, but doubt and fear quickly cloud his face, and he has murmured "I'm sorry," before she ever has a chance to tell him there's no need.

He sets her back upright on the chair and snatches his hands away from her – he's assumed she was trying to get away and that's why she fell.

"Forgive me," he mutters bashfully, shifting to the far side of the seat and backing away from her. "I didn't mean to... would you like me to-?"

"I just lost my balance," she tries to assure him, but he's too wrapped up in his fretting to hear, and gets up from the chair hurriedly.

"Here, you take the cha-AHHIR!" he yells, because as soon as he stands up the wheeled chair becomes unbalanced under her weight, so she and it both plummet down to the floor.

She shrieks in shock as she hits the cold stone slabs, the chair half-flipping over on top of her, and then hears Megamind's frantic babbling as he pulls the chair off her and throws himself down on his knees next to her.

"Are you alright? I didn't... oh I'm so-... please don't... are you hurt?" he pleads desperately, pulling her up to sit and brushing his hands up and down her arms as he checks frantically for injuries.

His palms travel across her shoulders up to cradle her neck, fingers linking around the back as he carefully rolls her head around, then rises higher to cup her face. His thumbs trace gently across her cheeks, tugging down her eyes as he peers into them to study her pupils, then he finally runs his fingers up and through her hair, combing through to feel for bumps on her head. It feels wonderful, and she allows her eyes to close as a smile crosses her face.

"Roxanne?" he inquires worriedly, and she feels his hands freeze stiff when he realises what he's doing. "I'm just... – in case you were hurt," he explains, at which she just slowly shakes her head.

"I'm fine," she says softly. "Relax." Her eyes open, and she suddenly reaches out to cradle his face in a similar way to how he's holding hers, her forefingers just brushing the triangle of skin between jaw, neck and ear – it is _unbelievably _soft and perfectly smooth, like silk, and she feels him shudder, his breath catching in his throat as she drags her fingertips back and forth.

"Don't _worry _so much," she tells him. Her legs are folded to one side, and he kneels just next to her, hands still twisted in her hair. "I'm not that fragile," she states. "I know you're afraid of messing up, but there's no reason to be."

He stares at her with eyes that would break a even puppy's heart, and his grip softens a little.

"I just..." he says quietly, then trails off and is silent for a moment before he starts again. "I've always been so sure of everything before," he admits. "My whole life, it was all black and white... Evil and Good, Megamind and Metro Man. It made _sense_." He pauses, obviously thinking over his words carefully before he dares to say them.

"But now, I don't know what I should or shouldn't do, and I..." he falters and bites his lip, looking down and then back up at her with so much _fear _in his eyes. "I just couldn't stand losing you again." His hands have trailed down through her hair until his fingertips meet across the nape of her neck. Roxanne sighs.

"You won't," she says simply, but he frowns – he doesn't believe her, of course he doesn't. "I know you've every right to be suspicious, but I promise you, I'm not going to just 'snap out of it' one day and leave. I _care_ about you, I really do." He winces as if she's hurt him – he's not used to feelings being discussed so openly, even if he sets the bar for wearing his heart on his sleeve; however, his hands stay where they are.

"I'm not humouring or pitying you, or anything else you've got stuck in that big head of yours," she continues with a half-nervous laugh, then takes her hands off his face and closes them around his wrists. "I do want to be with you – the same way you want to be with me... I hope, at least," she adds with a little more humour.

He stares at her like he's waiting for the punchline, but it never comes, and eventually the words really sink in. His grip relaxes even more, and he dares to tousle her short hair between his fingers again.

"...Oh," he says dumbly, and instantly curses himself for sounding so stupid; with all his intellect, he wishes he could have come up with something more eloquent. "Well."

"Well-well," she parrots back with a faint grin. "Now we've cleared that up, anything you'd like to add?" She moves to get up, as the way she's sitting is starting to make her feet tingle.

"Wait," he interrupts, solidifying his hold on her to stop her trying to get up "There _is_ something I want to..." he trails off when the words become irrelevant, and instead leans closer to her, dropping his arm around her shoulders and tucking his face into the curve of her neck.

Without awkwardness or doubt, he embraces her.

She reciprocates at once, pulling him closer as she closes her eyes and enjoys the feeling of his breath against her skin, the tightness of his arms encircling her. After a while – neither of them wanting to move any time soon – she raises a hand and dots her fingers on the back of his head. Slowly at first, she sweeps her had down to the groove where his skull runs into his strong neck – it'd have to be strong, considering what it supports.

When she trails just her thumb and forefinger down the back, the weight of his head on her shoulder increases significantly, and a burst of breath escapes his lips – a pant, if she didn't know better. So she trails a single fingertip back up his neck again, and his hands start to dig into her as his grip seizes even tighter. She'd guess that his neck was a weak spot if she didn't know any better, and then considers if all of his high-collared outfits have a _practical_ aspect as well as aesthetic. He certainly wouldn't be quite as intimidating a supervillain if it just took a tickle on the back of the neck to immobilise him.

When she changes the angle of her hand slightly, this time scoring his smooth skin with a fingernail, he takes an unashamed _gasp_, and before she knows it a sharp pain cuts into her neck.

"Ow!" she yelps, but for once he doesn't move, though the pain stops. "Did you just _bite_ me?" she queries disbelievingly, her hand has stopped, rendering him just about capable of speech.

"Did I?" he murmurs thickly, shuddering heavily as she drags her nail a little further down his neck. "I _caahh–_n't say I'm in full control of my faculties if you carry on doing _thaaah_–at_." _Roxanne wasn't about to protest, though, and simply digs her nail harder into him. He bites her again, but this time she suspects it was at least partially deliberate, because of the way his tongue flicks, as if to taste her, and lips linger on her skin, soothing after the sharpness of his teeth.

"You just did it again," she teases, and then unmistakably feels his lips twist into a smile against her.

"I didn't hear you complaining," he points out, his voice humming against her skin; she's excited his flirtatious side has come out at last – their banter when she was still bait for Metro Man often skirted the line of flirtation near-scandalously, so she knows he has it in him.

"Well I'm going to start soon if we don't move," she counters, "my feet are falling asleep."

"Ah, of course," he breathes, backing away as he releases her at last, scrambling onto his feet and then offering her a hand up. As he hauls her to her feet, his hand leaves hers quickly and his arms wrap around her waist, holding her curvaceous body against his flat one. His hands cross over around her hips, and she meets his questioning gaze.

"Can I help you with something?" she enquires with a cheeky smile, and his magnificent eyes scan every feature of her face, examining her meticulously – almost scientifically.

"Just checking," he confesses at last, and she rolls her eyes.

"If I said I loved you, would that help?" she remarks, and then it's as if someone's hit him in the back of the head with the forget-me stick; his features go blank, his eyes widening as his mouth hangs open.

"I... if... you..." he babbles; eventually, he moves a hand up from her waist, brushing the back of it against her cheek tentatively. "_Yes_," he whispers at last, "it would."

"Good," she replies, slinging her arms around his neck – not missing the almost-sultry way his eyelids drop with the contact. He turns his hand around and hooks his fingers under her chin, and even though that same voice is screaming not to do it because of the crushing, humiliating possibility of rejection, he silences it, puts it in a corner of his expansive mind, and instead reminds him she loves him. She _loves _him. _Him_.

He coaxes her closer as he moves forward himself, and they glide into a delicate, chaste kiss.

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><p><em>End<em>

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><p>I thought there was going to be more of this, and then I got to that point and there just <em>wasn't<em>, it was like, nope, this here is perfect. We're stopping.

Muuuuuch sweeter and fluffier than my last, though not without some cheeky moments. I just really wanted something that touched upon the way every time Roxanne hugs Megamind, he has this stunned amazed expression that is the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. Also his eyes are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and you just have to LOOK at them to see he's not really evil.

The review button is down here, in case you didn't know. ;)


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